Tofu Salad
by nileflood
Summary: Barry wants to have sex with Roddy, and that means knotting. Roddy gets a little freaked and ends up going to Nick for advice, as the only person he knows on the receiving end of knotting.


"I... You... What?" Roddy spluttered and stared at Barry, wanting to laugh because it had to be a joke. It just had to. Because the very idea of it made him want to squirm and for several seconds he didn't know if that was a bad feeling or a good one. He didn't even know if Barry was serious because although the guy was sort of sweet, once you got him away from Dumb and Dumber, or Jason and Tuberculosis or whatever his name was, but he was still a Jägerbar. They were big and strong and not exactly the sort you could trust. And Roddy was not good at trust.

But it didn't seem likely that Barry is trying to jerk his chain. In fact, Barry shifts, moving from his laidback, cocksure longue to something more... stiff. Apparently he was serious. And while Roddy knows that Barry could be serious, he was also a jock and he played chicken with cars on his dirt bike. He's not exactly an angel and while Roddy likes to think he can smell a rat, metaphorically speaking as well as literally, now he's not so sure. Some of the stuff they'd done was kinky. Jerking each other off in the changing rooms at school, exchanging blowjobs in the dark back rooms at clubs or dry-rutting against the wall at raves, but that was just sex. Just normal sex. Nothing to do with dicks with barbs or anything like that.

"I just thought you might be into it." He says, and Roddy can't answer him. He doesn't really know anything about it, but he doesn't get to ask anything else, because Monroe is at the door then, looking between them.

"Staying for dinner? It's tofu salad." He says to Barry but the tall, broad teen just shakes his head.

"I've got to get back. My dad..." He says lamely, and it's the worst excuse Roddy has ever heard Barry come up with. When did he care what his parents thought? His dad was always swooping in to save him. And it wasn't as if his mother was in any position to do anything about it. But the Jägerbarwas already on his feet and heading towards the door, squeezing past Monroe.

"Something I said?" Monroe asks once the front door slams shut. Roddy didn't answer him either, even if he shook his head, because wasn't sure if he could look at him, realisation hitting him and something in him twisted; Monroe was one of those big, woodsy predators. Wolves, like bears, could do the knotting thing. And part of him wanted to _ask_, but he couldn't. Not Monroe. That would be the most uncomfortable, embarrassing conversation in the world.

He swallowed, his mouth unnaturally dry and he shook his head again, getting to his feet. "Not for me either." He didn't worry about coming up with a reason why, but he was heading out of the door. Barry's jeep was gone already, but he didn't expect him to hang around. Barry had probably driven out to the woods to lick his wounds. He'd be back tomorrow, bruised, covered in leaf mould but probably happier. He might even have forgotten about the whole knotting thing. But Roddy doubted that.

And that was why he headed to Nick's house.

Nick wasn't like Monroe. Nick didn't have a sort of open-door policy. Whenever there was a stray kid, or a stray monster, Nick brought it to Monroe. He didn't let it stay at his place. There wasn't a key hidden under the mat, there wasn't a window open. Which meant that Roddy had to sit and wait outside, until the sky started to darken and Nick finally arrived home. He was humming, spinning his car keys around on his finger. Maybe it was the hormones talking, maybe it was the fact he was even here asking about this stuff, but Roddy thought that it looked like Nick had just got laid. Maybe he had. Maybe Monroe had called him. Tofu salad wasn't exactly part of a normal chat-up line, but Roddy guessed that when you got old, cool chat-up lines went out the window. Besides, Monroe wasn't the sort that could be witty. Not when he wanted to get something into bed.

"I need to talk to you." Roddy said, trying not to twitch as Nick drew closure, the humming fairly tuneless and that was almost enough to send him heading home. He didn't need to ask Nick Burkhardt about sex. He didn't know the guy, he was a Grimm. A cop Grimm. A cop Grimm who was sleeping with Monroe and was, what, ten years older than Roddy? They didn't have anything in common. They'd occasionally sat at Monroe's table and had veggie burgers and meat-free lasagne but that was it. End of relationship.

Nick had stopped. He was looking Roddy over, clearly uncertain about what the kid wanted, and Roddy thought he looked vaguely nervous. As if he could see what was happening in Roddy's head. Which immediately summoned the most embarrassing thoughts it could. Monroe and Nick fucking in Monroe's kitchen while the tofu salad sat forgotten on the table, the Grimm's knuckles white as he clung to the worktop, groaning for more, his body shuddering through orgasm. Barry stroking his cock, kneeling above Roddy, his cock huge, swollen and red and throbbing in his hand as he stroked it. That self-same cock, erect and if possible, now even bigger as it moved in front of him, tying itself into a thick knot in front of his eyes. Clearly Nick couldn't see that though, because if he could, he wouldn't have given a short little nod and continued on, "Sure, come in."

Roddy was just glad that the darkness covered his face, hiding his blush. He needed _something_, and soon, because otherwise he was probably going to implode. All over Nick's living sofa. Nick sensed something was up, at least, and brought him a glass of water. For a Grimm, Nick didn't seem too bright, but then again, Barry wasn't exactly bright for a Jägerbar, it was pretty amazing that they'd lived this long. But that wasn't why he was there. Barry and his suggestion was why he was there. Barry and his magical cock. And by that point his tongue was pretty much stuck to the roof of his mouth, so Roddy downed most of the water in the glass before blurting out what was on his mind. Direct and to the point.

"Whatsknottinglike?" He said, words falling from his mouth in a sudden jumble, and for a second Nick only looked at him, blinking, and Roddy was certain he'd have to say it again, slower. But then he noticed the way Nick seemed to fidget, glancing away when Roddy looked directly at him.

Nick cleared his throat then, glancing down at his hand, at his fingers, idly scratching at the cushion on the couch. "Me and Monroe are that obvious?" He asked softly after a second, and Roddy was glad that he didn't have to listen to any denials.

He nodded though, and offered a sort of lop-sided, apologetic smile. "Sorry. Reinigen hearing." There didn't need to be any further explanation. Nick could just assume that Roddy had heard Nick and Monroe talking about it, but Roddy doubted Nick thought that. He'd think Roddy had heard them, one night when the teen had stayed over, and he'd be right. They'd tried to stay quiet and from his bed on the couch, a normal, boring human person wouldn't have heard them. But Roddy wasn't one of those and he'd heard every pant, every groan, every curse and breakfast had been an exercise in caution, especially because every time Nick shifted on his chair, Roddy knew why.

Of course, it was only now he was realising that they'd probably only uncoupled ten minutes before.

Nick cleared his throat again, and moved to brush his hand through his hair. "You know, you should probably wait till you're a bit older..." Nick tried, but when Roddy snorted with laughter, he stopped.

"We're talking about sex, not beer. It's not off-limits till I'm 21." He pointed out, and Nick looked like he was about to launch into a lecture on the evils of both, but he didn't. Maybe because he knew Roddy was going to do it whatever Nick said, so he might as well get some useful advice.

"Looks, it's... it's not something you just rush into, okay? Make sure you trust them. And that you're somewhere safe. And you take your time." Roddy rolled his eyes at that, but he supposed he was going to get a watered-down version on _The Talk_ whoever he asked about this stuff. And Nick at least wanted to get this gone as soon as he could. "It's good. Really... not like normal sex. I mean it is, but it isn't. It's sort of... more." He was blushing now, Roddy noticed, shifting, almost squirming, where he sat and pointedly not looking at the boy opposite him. "It starts off like sex, but then... it's just better. Bigger. Takes longer. It doesn't hurt. You'd think it does, but it doesn't. As long as you don't try and pull away, then... then it's weird. But addictive. I mean, you'll probably want it again right after. Nothing fills as good after, as big. It sort of ruins you for anything else."

He coughed again, and as useful as Nick probably thought he hadn't been, at least some of Roddy's more pressing questions had been answered. Although he doubted he'd ever be able to look at Monroe in the same way, ever. But Nick was shifting now in a way that didn't speak of nerves, and Roddy could almost smell the arousal. That was the sign to leave. So he thanked the Grimm and got up to leave, he was already fuelling a few of his own fantasies in his head.

Before the door was even shut, Nick was grabbing for his car keys again and wondering exactly how quickly he could get over to Monroe's place if he didn't exceed the speed limit.

It was a good thing that his old man was out, awarding Roddy the privacy he needed when he got home, kicking off his jeans and dumping his jacket and t-shirt on the floor, falling onto the bed and curling his fingers around his half-hard cock. Barry was big, he knew that already, tall and broad and proportionate and Roddy didn't need the twitch of his dick to tell him that he liked that. He didn't need the ache of his hole either when he spread his legs and let his other hand reach between them, his mind filled with thoughts of Barry up against him, his cock arched, ready, huge as it buried itself in him, thrusting deep and slow and letting Roddy ride out each wave of pleasure, his own hips rocking. He pressed a finger in, not enough, stretching himself and trying to bite back his groans. Barry could keep going for hours, come over and over in him, too big to pull out, leaving Roddy sore and sated and that was when he jerked himself again, harder, and came over his stomach and his faded sheets.

The next day, Roddy was leant against the wall of lockers as Barry dropped off some heavy looking, and mostly unused, text books. "So, I was thinking-" He began, and Barry looked up to him, expectant. He had been out in the woods, he smelt like trees and ferns and dirt, he had a faint scratch over his cheek, probably from some brambles he'd crashed through. Roddy didn't know why, but the way Barry looked just then, sort of wild, made his heart hammer, his cock stirring. He'd jerked off twice that morning, once in bed and then again in the shower. It had seemed like enough then, but now he wasn't so sure. He was beginning to feel sort of hot again. "About what you asked. And I'm up for it. If you make it good." He managed to continue, trying to be flippant, completely casual as he hugged his music books to his chest.

"Okay then." Barry managed, although he didn't sound as casual as Roddy, grinning too widely, probably already a little turned on. Roddy liked that, watching Barry walk away and letting his eyes roam over the other's back, drinking in the sight and privately stripping away every inch of clothing. Only three more lessons.

It might have only been three more lessons, but half way through the second one he found himself ducking out to go jerk-off in the bathroom, forehead against the cold tiles, body spasming and trembling as he tried to catch his breath. The empty feeling didn't go away though, the need that bubbled in him, the anticipation and the want and for several long moments he considered if Reinigens could go into heat, if it was something that no one had thought to mention before.

The rest of the day ticked by too slowly, every second almost unbearable as he waited for the final bell. As soon as it started, he was grabbing his books and his bag and heading towards the door, the teacher's reminder about assignments lost to him as he headed out as quickly as he could. Not as quick as Barry though, who was already leant against his car when Roddy arrived, pulling the door open and clambering into the car himself, grinning and letting his own eyes travel over the dark-haired boy. "Ready?" He asked, starting up the motor and grinning a little wider as he caught Roddy's attention focusing on the bulge in his jeans.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He said, and goddamnit, the drive to Barry's cave up in the woods took far too long. Every minute in the car, the vibrations from the engine travelling through the seats, seemed to make him feel all the warmer, hole sensitive and every bump in the track making his breath catch in his throat, far too similar but not enough like how he imagined Barry slamming up against him, up into him. He'd been turned on before, but not like this and never for as long, body almost wrecked and at this rate, he wasn't going to last as all once the clothes came off.

Not that it mattered, because as soon as they stopped Barry was dragging him over, crushing their mouths together. It was as possessive as Roddy had ever seen him, ever felt him, and he kissed back, opening his mouth and letting Barry's tongue press in, tasting him and fucking him, all the while the bear's hands tugged, trying to pull him into his lap, against the hardening erection. But as intense as Barry seemed, he pulled away before Roddy had had enough, even if both were fighting for breath. "Need you." He gasped out, and Roddy nodded, opening the door and almost falling out of the car as he tried to control his jelly-legs. Barry was there though, an arm around him, leading him to the cave and holding him close. The cave was more like a bachelor den now, less like a dungeon and Roddy liked it when he came up here. There were old, comfortable chairs and books Barry horded on every subject you could think of, there was a radio and tins and tins and tins of food, piled up at the back. There were clothes too, some of Barry's, some of Roddy's, piled up into a makeshift mattress and that was where they ended up now.

Barry's mouth was on his throat, kissing and biting, nipping at flesh, and all Roddy could do was tip his head back to give the bear more room. It felt good, Barry above him, pawing at their clothes, wanting him. He was growling too, a noise that would have startled Roddy if he hadn't imagined it like this, Barry more animal than man as his teeth caught Roddy's swollen lips and he bucked forward, grinding them together. Barry had lost his jeans at some point, his cock barely contained in his boxers but Roddy could feel it, feel how hard it was, could feel the wetness of the head even through his own layers. He made a noise, unable to catch his breath and form words, but Barry's hands were already pressing up the fabric of his shirt, revealing pale rat-singer skin, skin that didn't escape from the kisses and bites either, a line of wet, red welts trailing over Roddy's chest and belly, towards his belt and his pants.

They were clearly a barrier that Barry had no time for, growling warningly before his hands found the fastenings, beginning to pull them off. Roddy couldn't tear his eyes away, propping himself up on his elbows as Barry's fingers curled into the hem of his trousers, under the hem of his boxers, and tugged. Roddy was lucky he didn't tear the offending clothes straight off, but just pulled them down and let the other's cock spring free. The cave wasn't cold, but the fresh air that caressed him made Roddy gasp, hips lifting slightly, thrusting into the air and Barry laughed, a soft, quiet laugh as he watched with dark eyes, before he reached out, fingers curling around the arched length, stroking slow. Too slow, too loose, the touch teasing. But as Roddy squirmed, he kicked off his jeans and spread his legs, and that seemed to be the result Barry wanted.

The Jägerbar made a noise that Roddy had never heard before, hungry and deep, guttural and he was forcing his own underwear down, pulling off his t-shirt and then Roddy's, leaving them both naked, panting and damp with sweat. For all the porn Roddy had seen, nothing was as hot as this. He let his hands smooth up Barry's chest, fingers trembling slightly, fighting the urge to tug him down and force the bear into him with rocking, grinding movements of his hips. He wanted to savour this bit, even if the rest of it was frenzied.

His hands went down, soothing as Barry growled again, his cock already leaking, wet and radiating heat. It was flushed red too, even more so against Roddy's fingers as he traced the underside, the skin soft but heavy, thick and this wasn't like the handjobs he'd given the bear before. This was different, bigger, or so it seemed, and there, towards the base, something thicker, hotter, throbbing even more than the leaking slit. It wasn't Barry that made the next noise, more of a whine, a whimper of desire and Roddy knew it came from his mouth, his cock just as hard now, up against his thigh but it was his hole that twitched, wanting more, wanting to be filled and stretched.

And that was when he moved, rolling onto all fours and curling his fingers into one of Barry's old shirts, offering his bear the pale curve of his ass, pushing back and feeling the sudden huge, hard wet cock between his cheeks. It felt like it was on fire, and yet he couldn't do anything but moan, head tipping forwards as Barry's fingers bit into his hips, the wet head of that giant cock slick against his ass as fingers pressed home, one at first, and then another. No matter how many fingers he had got inside himself the night before, no matter how stretched he felt then, it was nothing to this now. Barry's fingers were thicker, longer, stretching him and spreading him wide, curling and hooking in him. Barry was saying something, soft words in his deep, lust-filled voice, the words comforting and filthy at the same time, drowned out by Roddy's groan as suddenly those fingers pulled away and he was filled with something bigger, something impossibly big, the head of that monster cock pressing into his tight heat and he wanted to kill Nick. Nick said it wouldn't hurt, but it did. It burnt.

But not for long. Barry was talking again, every phrase peppered with expletives, but he was still, letting Roddy catch his breath. Until the spread of his body didn't hurt anymore, until the burning was replaced with an ache, until Roddy could feel that Barry wasn't just in him, but kissing him, kissing down his back, over his shoulders, nipping at the nape of his neck.

"Fuck, don't stop," Roddy managed, gasping out the words, pressing himself back, gingerly at first, and then again, the length of Barry inside of him still leaking, still slick and he slid in deeper with ease, thrusting in and filling the smaller, slighter boy beneath him, until he was balls deep. Those last few inches had been thicker, harder somehow but now as Barry shifted, as he began to rock their bodies together, Roddy felt that hard knot of flesh brush up against something inside him, against the spot in him that made his eyes blow wide, his pulse sky-rocket and his cock throb all the more keenly between his spread legs. And then it was his turn to let curse tumble from his lips, pressing back as Barry pressed home, sinking deeper. The thrusts were coming in a steadier rhythm now, fast and hard, but never exactly pulling out. He couldn't, not far and Roddy could feel the knot inside him, the swell of it against those nerves, too big now to ease out and Roddy didn't want him out. He wanted more, more of it, deep in him, harder.

Maybe he said as much, he didn't know, didn't know if he could speak at that moment, his hips suddenly forced into the pile of clothes, the bear's thrusts stronger now, rhythm failing as Barry's hand released Roddy's hip and closed around the other's cock, stroking and squeezing as he growled and roared, orgasm building between them. Roddy felt light fill his eyes, a sudden heat leave his body and every muscle he possessed tighten, including those around Barry. But he wasn't done with the bear yet, pressing back against each forward motion of the other's hips, trying to milk an orgasm out of him, wanting it, hungry for it. And then it came, the wetness in him before nothing compared to the sudden rush, the sudden heat and it left him gasping, feeling some of it between them, leaking from him.

That was when Barry collapsed forwards, which Roddy guessed he should have been expecting. But he hadn't been, and so what air was left in him was effectively squashed out between their makeshift bed and the heavy bear above him. It took a few choice, sharp movements of his elbow and a few grumbling curses before Barry would move too, and not far, considering they were still fixed together, ass to cock, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as he had imagined, not with tiredness seeping into his bones. And as Barry's arms curled around him, the warmth against him reassuring, Roddy let himself give in and sleep.

The sun was down when he woke up. Not stirred by the chill of the darkening sky, but by the friction against his hips as Barry rocked against him, the knot inside him slowly filling again, stretching him open again as he own cock began to swell. He meant to ask Barry what the fuck he thought he was doing, but instead the noise came out as a soft mewl, a delicious noise that made Barry lean in and turn Roddy's head, lips meeting in another kiss as Roddy began to press back again, ready for a second round. Maybe Nick had been right. Maybe Barry had completely ruined him. Not that it mattered, because if this was ruined, it felt pretty damn good.


End file.
